Feel free to write and draw on paper, just like before.
I thought so expectantly and with begging:
I closed the book cover made of cowhide and looked at the flow of the long river of history, which urged me to stop the disorderly pace.
I know that in this day and age, the romance that did exist in me will be covered by reality.
But I begged to be able to write and draw on paper like I had just been, with whatever mood I had just had, just like before.